The continuing, colossal incompetence
of Rob Manfred has somehow made him the face of the Houston Astros
sign-stealing scandal, and I'm sure Astros players and executives everywhere
are OK with that.
But there looms another name that
will soon resonate more than any other: Mike Bolsinger.
Who?
Yep, exactly the point. Bolsinger is
a former MLB reliever, one of hundreds who are trying to make it in The Show,
and he's set himself up as the perfect showpiece for the nightmare that has
unfolded in what has to be the worst scandal in the Major Leagues since the
Chicago Black Sox threw the 1919 World Series.
A little background: Bolsinger was
pitching for the Toronto Blue Jays against Houston on Aug. 4, 2017. Audio
recordings of the game found that the Astros' trashcan-banging system was used
on 12 of the 29 pitches Bolsinger threw. He managed to get one out, gave up
four runs, and was cut from the Major League team the next day. Bolsinger
hasn't pitched in the MLB since, although he has toiled professionally in Japan
the last two seasons.
He filed a civil suit on Feb. 10,
alleging the Astros had engaged in unfair business practices and negligence via
a "duplicitous and tortious scheme of sign-stealing." In layman's
terms, he was cheated. He has since included Houston owner Jim Crane and
baseball operations staffer Derek Vigoa in the scheme. More on Vigoa shortly.
If you're the cynical type, you can
think what you want of this lawsuit: Maybe Bolsinger wasn't good enough to be a
MLB pitcher anyway, or maybe this is just an opportunistic money-grab, or
perhaps this will just get thrown out as frivolous litigation.
But I don't think so. I prefer to see
this as the perfect chance to crack open this case and see what we've been
missing. There's a whole crockpot of crap stewing on this one, and I'm certain
that Rob Manfred has been the ultimate crock-block.
None of this scandal would be public
if not for the print media chasing down the facts, but a lawsuit is a whole
'nother story. Early in the lawsuit process is the discovery phase, where legal
information is exchanged between the two sides. You can't hide what you want
hidden anymore. This is where Bolsinger's attorneys get to see all the damning
emails and texts, and question everyone under oath.
All that Rob Manfred's investigation
found was what the Astros' players were willing to tell. Everything else
we know was dug up by reporters from gutsy whistleblowers like Mike Fiers and
Jonathan Lucroy.
The real dirt? I don't think we've
reached the real grime yet. Buzzers and bad tatoos, Derek Vigoa and the
"Codebreaker" excel spreadsheets, cameras in the visitors' dugouts
... who knows where this will go?
And when that stuff does come out,
expect more lawsuits.
Manfred has bumbled through this scandal
with the grace and artistry of an unsupervised two-year-old with a box of
crayons and some Elmer's Glue. Turns out, this was not a well-kept secret in
the game of baseball. There are too many players who bounce from team to team
for this to not leak. Manfred was always well behind the issue, working like
the lawyer he is to mask the problems instead of getting ahead and stopping
them.
Jonathan Lucroy: "I knew about
that two years ago, that it was going on. Everybody in baseball, especially in
the division playing against them, we were all aware of the Astros doing those
things."
Lucroy was playing for the A's that
year, as was former Astros' pitcher Mike Fiers, who revealed the dirty deeds.
Lucroy alerted Oakland GM David Forst, who relayed the info to Manfred. And
then ... nothing.
"They didn't go through the
whole investigation," Lucroy said. "It wasn't until Fiers came out
publicly that they looked at it really hard."
The firestorm sparked by Fiers and
The Athletic put the MLB commissioner on the spot. He had to do something, so
he suspended some executives, took away some draft picks and fined the team $5
million. No players were penalized. The 2017 World Series championship was not
vacated, and Manfred trivialized the WS championship by famously calling the
trophy "a piece of metal." Wow.
"I don't know if the
commissioner has ever won anything in his life," said Justin Turner of the
Dodgers, who lost that 2017 World Series to the Astros. "Maybe he hasn't.
But the reason every guy's in this room, the reason every guy is working out
all offseason, and showing up to camp early and putting in all the time and
effort is specifically for that trophy, which, by the way, is called the
commissioner's trophy.
"So for him to devalue it the
way he did just tells me how out of touch he is with the players in this game.
At this point the only thing devaluing that trophy is that it says
'commissioner' on it."
Now imagine the Dodgers winning the
2021 World Series, and Manfred in the lockerroom presenting it. Priceless, huh?
So let's go back to the Black Sox
scandal of 1919, which threatened to bring down professional baseball. That's
when the owners created the office of the commissioner to protect the integrity
of the game, and named Kenesaw Mountain Landis to the post and gave him
ultimate authority to protect the best interests of the game.
A scowling, humorless sort, Landis
ruled with an iron hand, unencumbered with the facade of protecting his job
over the game itself. Baseball prospered.
How will history remember Rob
Manfred?
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